A Dream to Call my Own
by a. loquita
Summary: At last, my love has come along. Castle/Beckett, one-shot, post-episode tag for "Always"


Title: A Dream to Call my Own  
Pairing: Castle/Beckett  
Rating: M (But light on detail)  
Category: One-shot, post-episode tag for "Always"  
A/N: I know, I know, everyone and their dog seems to be doing one of these. This is my version. Thank you to supplyship for her beta work.

* * *

It must be the quiet that wakes Kate. The storm outside has passed.

Castle is beside her. She takes a moment to harbor that—Castle is beside her. In the night.

His steady breath is the only sound, it whispers across her skin. She is tucked in next to him, curled into him really. She's never been a snuggler. But he has always drawn her in, shifted her thinking. Why should the way she used to prefer to sleep be any different?

Her hands skim his chest. His skin is soft, his heartbeat strong underneath. So much solid strength inside this man.

Her ministrations must have roused him, she can tell by the way his breathing changes. Then the way his entire body seems to come alive, electric to her touch. She places an open mouth kiss on his chest.

"Kate," he murmurs, only halfway awake. She's a little disappointed that he broke the silence, but only for a second because his hands are on her now and she's quickly learning that all rational thought leaves her at his touch.

His careful touch. Seeking something. She sighs when his hands cup her breasts. "Yes," she says. Not knowing exactly what she's agreeing to. She wants it all.

His nose nudges her ear, a silly thing, but she likes it. "I probably should have fed you."

She's also not surprised to learn that Castle's bedroom talk isn't like most people's. "I'm not hungry."

"Not that, but…" His lips brush the cuff of her ear. "I should've bought you dinner, or something."

The gentleman, she should have known he'd be this way. Kick himself for not doing things in the proper way. Not because it matters to him, but for her. Because he wants it right for her.

"It's OK." She hopes that she sounds reassuring. "I don't need anything."

Just you.

She nudges him to roll onto his back and she crawls over him, above him, settling herself on his thighs. Close, but not quite close enough.

"Just remind me again, this isn't a dream, right?" he asks.

She smiles at that, leaning forward to kiss his lips, proving to him how real this is. Real, honest, true. She wants to be those things for him, to him. Because of him, she believes that can be. How had she not seen that before today? But she stops herself from retreading the ground they've already covered, painfully. Now it's about moving ahead.

"Real." She says against his lips. She's draped over him, his new comforter to replace the one that has slipped down and away. "I'm really here. And I'm sorry it took so long."

"S'alright." He hands travel down her sides, almost tickling her, but instead settle against her hips. "You're here now. That's all that matters."

They were frantic before, their first time. Keeping pace with the storm outside, rising in a short bolt of lightning and falling, tumbling, concluding, in the thunder that followed. She's nearly undone again by the memory.

But this time, she somehow knows it will be different. Not that they've worked the frantic out of their systems; it will surely be there for a while to come. This time, this is about what they are in the quiet moments. When there aren't distractions.

"Not a dream?" he asks again. "Because if I'm dreaming, I don't want to wake up." Teasing her with cheesy lines is only going to turn her on more. Not that she'd ever admit it.

"Castle—" She starts, but then realizes she better get used to saying, "Rick. Just shut up now."

He snorts a little, then reaches up to brush her cheek. They move together, the sounds of their lovemaking fill the room. The quickening breaths, the gasps, the sighs.

This is right. So very right that she wants to curse herself. For waiting, for thinking she didn't deserve this, at least not yet. For not trusting. For denying him this, to the point that it hurt him. It wasn't right, and she wants to beg forgiveness. But maybe that's exactly what she's doing right now.

She rises and then slides down again, the length of him deep inside. God yes, this is what she never wants to stop doing. Never stop asking him to forgive her of her sins and to love her despite them.

They rise and fall, and rise and fall again.

"Kate," he whispers, granting her absolution. And she falls one last time, both of them finding release together.

She feels warm and boneless laying over him. His arms circle her, holding firm, as if he doesn't want her drifting away from him. Or that there's no way she could ever be close enough. Maybe a bit of both.

It's quiet again. The storm has passed and the night is still. And they have only begun to dream.


End file.
